Fiora and Ghirahim
by GallifreySky
Summary: Where were the sword spirits before the thousand year war? How did they come to be? Join them as they experience their individual journeys from simple human lovers to important parts of the greatest quest of all time.
1. That Fateful Night

**1.) ****That Fateful Night**

It all started on the fateful night that the ground was violently torn apart, all forces of evil pouring like a massive, poisonous flood from the cavernous fracture in the earth. They plagued every household and ran over the unsuspecting villages, killing everything in sight. Their leader was a monstrous man by the name of Demise. And his rusty blade cut through the most victims. The thousand year war with the surface had begun.

Ghirahim's eyes snapped open as he bolted up in bed. He listened carefully, sure he heard somebody screaming. His wife woke next to him and sat up as well, alerted by his stirring. "What's going on? Are you okay?" she asked him, wide blue eyes poring into his with a scared curiosity as she rested her hand on his shoulder. Ghirahim shifted his legs over the side of the bed, slipping on his shoes. He turned to face her and said, "That's just the problem, Fifi.", then pulled a red cloak over his shoulders, fastening a clasp at his throat. "I don't know what's going on. But I'll go outside and check." He leaned over, held the side of her face and tenderly kissed her. "I'll be right back." With that he left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. His footsteps faded until Fi heard the front door squeak open on its rusty hinges wind screaming as it was let into the warm house. It slammed tightly, stopping it in its tracks._How curious,_ she thought to herself, _he's usually such a heavy sleeper._ Outside from the normally peaceful, quiet village came disturbing,peculiar noises. She jumped at a muffled scream, and then at a clattering noise that grew louder each second that passed. She detected the slight hint of smoke somewhere and, worried, decided to check it out. She lightly jumped out of bed and gracefully tread to the window, throwing open both sets of shutters. Her eyes grew wide and she gasped in horror at the horrible sight that met her eyes; fire blazed through the village as people frantically ran to escape the terrifying beasts giving chase. There were living skeletons clattering through the streets spearing her friends and neighbors, and these fat, red beasts waving wooden clubs around, smacking people against buildings and beating them to death. She backed away from the window in shock and ran through the house, throwing open the front door, its hinges screaming in protest as she stepped onto the threshold. Way in the distance there was a massive wall of fire spouting from a wide canyon in the ground, floods of monsters pouring out by the minute. She frantically looked around, eyes searching the wrecked, burning village and checking every face that ran by. Where was Ghirahim? Had her husband ran outside to fight!? "GHIR!" she shouted for him, "GHIRAHIM WHERE ARE YOU!?" she yelled hopelessly, he was long gone and far away from the house by now, probably trying to help. She was about to turn around and try the back door when, out of nowhere, a dead white face appeared in front of hers, with fire burning inside its black sockets, a spear raised in its bony white fingers. She screamed and backed away, tripping and falling over the doorframe and landing on her back, the wind rushing from her lungs. The creature came closer and raised the weapon higher as she backed away, a hand raised in a weak attempt to defend herself. With a gasping breath, she screamed for her husband once more before her voice was cut off by the impact of the spear in her stomach. To shocked to react, she sat there with her mouth open in a silent, pained scream as the skeleton man shrieked a raspy victory cry and sauntered off, bones rattling inside his disproportional armor. She looked down at the weapon embedded in her midsection and a muffled cry escaped her lips as she tried to tug it out with little success. Soon she lost all the strength that she needed to sit upright and awkwardly slumped to the ground, curling up on the cold wooden surface. The cold seeped into her bones, the pool of her warm blood hardly shielding enough from the icy wind biting her skin as she slowly lost consciousness, the harsh colors of the world bleeding together, fading to a gray nothing.

The fight was hopeless now. Ghirahim had tried to ward off the monsters, to resist, but their forces had become too strong, their numbers too great. The fires blazed on, devouring the village with its greedy flames as he ran home, prepared to take Fi and run to somewhere safe. He stopped once to help fend off a monster attacking his neighbor, only to have it knock her in the face and turn on Ghirahim instead. He hacked his knife at it, blocking each blow from its club with a muted metallic thud until the monster paused, drawing the weapon behind its head as it prepared for a final strike. Seeing a chance to run, he flicked the knife into its eye and ran away at full speed, long past helping the people around him, for he was just as helpless as they were against the vicious demons. He rounded each turn, cutting across dirt roads and leaping over dead bodies. When he finally reached their little wooden house, he threw open the back door and went from room to room calling Fi's name, all the while evaluating every available place to run to in his head. He grabbed a blanket, throwing a book and food provisions inside and tied it at the top, throwing it over his shoulder for easy carrying. "Fi?" he called moving quickly to the front of the house, "Fifi, there are too many of them out there, we have to-" he stopped walking abruptly once he reached the front door, the sight that met him twisting his stomach into a hard knot. Fi lay curled on the floor next to the doorframe, a spear shaft jutting out of her stomach, her crimson blood pooling in around her. Her blank eyes stared at some fixed point in the distance and a trail of blood leaked out of the corner of her mouth. The makeshift bag fell from Ghirahim's loose hands, landing on the floor with a muted thud as he dropped to his knees beside his dead wife. He tentatively lifted her body from the ground with one hand, and with the other he swept her jet-black hair out of her pale face. "No….." he choked, "No no, Fifi…..don't leave me…." When she did not answer, he pulled her closer into his arms as if his embrace would change her fate. "Fi, please!" he sobbed over her shoulder, "This shouldn't have happened, no, please…" he sobbed harder, rocking her back and forth. He pulled her away and shook her body like a rag doll, shouting to her deaf ears, begging her to stay with him, and then pressed her cold, limp hand to his cheek, blood trailing down her arm. He wrapped his arms around her again, pressing her dead body close to his as he sobbed into her hair. He held her tight like this for some time, grief beyond words overtaking his existence. But soon it turned around, evolving into something dangerous."No….NO." he angrily said to the world outside, the fire reflecting off his wet, brown eyes as he glared out the front door at the burning world. "This… THIS SHOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED!" he yelled. He let her body slide to the floor as he stood, storming out of the house. He pulled his knife again, screaming and hacking it at the air, but it was all in vain; the monsters had moved on to slaughter the next unsuspecting village. They had left a trail of fire in their wake of chaos, the smell of death still lingering in the air. He stopped, head thrown back as tears flowed down his face, and dropped the knife at his side. He buried his face in his hands and slowly dropped to his knees in the coarse field grass, letting everything go, and then looked to the heavens. "DAMN YOU HYLIA!" he cursed the goddess, "YOU LET THIS HAPPEN!", then he struck the ground with his fist in anger, producing a crunching sound as his hand broke. Yelling out in pain, he sobbed even harder and curled into a ball on the grass, not caring who saw, because they were all dead anyway. His friends and neighbors were long gone, the one truly important person to him gone as well. There was no point to his life anymore. A cold rain began to pitter-patter on the ground, making the fires hiss with every drop. It ran its icy fingers down Ghirahim's back as his spirit crumbled inside him.


	2. The Master Sword

**2.) ****The Master Sword**

**Two weeks later**

Fi's eyes opened to a strange and beautiful scene; she was in a wide, silent temple. The ceiling held brilliantly painted tales of the future, the all-powerful triforce painted in the center of the intricate, graphic swirls. In the center of the room was a raised platform in the shape of a hexagon, a tall stone staircase escalating to another platform in front of two massive stone the middle of this platform stood a brilliant sword embedded in a stone, simple, but silently powerful in some way. Growing curious and restless she stood up to explore her surroundings…and realized she was floating instead. Shocked, she turned to the side, finding a tall mirror leaning against the wall. She quickly moved towards it to confirm this finding and found a strange woman staring back at her. In fact, not even a woman, but an extraordinary creature from perhaps somebody's imagination; Both her short-cropped, pointed hair and her smooth, rounded face were a soft sky-blue, as if her whole head, down to the smooth, pupil-less eyes taking up half her face, had been coated in a fresh bath of blue paint. A tiny blue diamond bumped out of the middle of her forehead and her arms were hidden by purple and blue silk wings that fluttered gently though the air was without a breeze. Her feet were clad with black boots with a tall heel that she would surely have trouble walking in…..if she ever had to walk again…..

"Different, I know, my dear, but you will get used to it in time."

A voice like a flowing river of honey rumbled softly out of nowhere from behind her, breaking the eerily peaceful silence of the temple. Whirling around, Fi found herself face to face with a tall, glorious lady. Clearing ten feet at least, with radiant olive skin and extensively long golden hair, was the goddess, Hylia in all her radiance. Her eyes were calm and reassuring, and her irises flooded with many swirling colors, giving the illusion that they were alive. In one hand, she held a strange, solid gold instrument against her hip, while she elegantly extended the other towards an astonished Fi. "Come." The goddess said, and she obediently took her hand, allowing herself to be lead over to the platform. It seemed that Hylia's pure white dress shimmered with every step she took, the long, bell-shaped sleeves swaying as she pulled Fi up the stairs to the sword in the stone. "This sword," she explained, gliding over to the curious weapon, "It has resided in my temple for many years, since the gods of old passed it to me for protection."

When Fi looked upon the sword, she felt something tug deep inside of her, as if it was calling to her. The sunlight played off the shiny metal, sparkling seductively at her. Realizing something she hadn't noticed at first, she cocked her head slightly, confused. "It….it looks like …me.", she softly chimed in a twinkly, robotic voice like a ringing bell. And indeed it did resemble her new form; the hilt had wing shapes jutting out at the end of the handle that were the same color as her own wings, and the black handle criss-crossed with the same glowing green stripes that climbed up her legs. At the sound of her voice it rang softly, seeming to quiver before her.

Hylia sighed, and then smiled warmly "Fi, you and this sword are one in spirit. When you died…"

"I _died?_ Then ….how am I still-"

A firm glance from the goddess silenced her immediately, and Hylia continued.

"My dear, Demise the demon king of all that is evil and hateful just sprung from the earth with his army of monsters in a great burst of flames. He and his army came through your village just two nights ago. That spear you took to the stomach killed you."

Fi took in a breath of shock at her words_._

"He is leading them across the land now, murdering everyone in his path." She paused, her gaze now grave and urgent. "This is why our meeting must be brief. We only have a week at the most before his army will continue their journey and attempt to raid my temple, killing the remaining survivors of his attack. You were resurrected to fulfill a great purpose that has been your destiny from the day you were born. You see, Fi, you are the spirit of the chosen hero's Master Sword. Surely you have heard the tale?" Hylia arched her perfect eyebrows in question.

Fi nodded slowly, recalling the ancient story. She could almost hear her mother's voice as she told it to her many years ago; _some day, little Fifi …an evil man will rise up from the earth and plague the world with his minions... he won't get far though, don't fret, dear. Hylia will cast him back where he came from , take the people left, gather them on a patch of land, and raise it way up into the sky…a hero will be born among the sky dwellers…Hylia's chosen hero…vanquish the Demon King for all time and the world will be safe again... _She remembered it clearly. And the hero born amongst the sky people will supposedly be reincarnated every generation to keep the evil in check. He'll have a special and holy weapon to help him along the way; the Master Sword…the weapon in front of her now, she realized.

"When a sword spirit goes through their first death, their physical body takes a new, holy form while their spirit is absorbed by the blade for which they exist, giving it all the power needed by its true wielder. It takes time to achieve this pure form, in your case it took a full two weeks because your human body had to make many massive changes to accommodate the journey ahead. Your spirit, or at least a part of it, resides in this blade. And you share some of this power I've spoken of; you now have the most superior intellect and the ability to predict outcomes of specific events, you can learn things more quickly than others, and can read the auras of living and non-living things. You and the sword shall work as one to aid my chosen hero of time for as long as evil thrives in this world."

"I…I understand, Your Grace."

"Good." Hylia nodded approvingly. "Now there are some things you must know in order to do this; First of all….I have to wipe your memory of your human life, for human memories and emotion will only make you lonely for the next several thousand years to come, as well as interfere with your duty. Secondly, you must learn how to use your newly acquired skills. I will teach you these things if you are willing to commit to this immense and extremely important responsibility. Are you ready?"

Fi looked up into the goddess's eyes determinedly and straightened her silk-clad shoulders. "Your Grace, if it pleases you and is for the safety of the entire world, then I am more than willing to serve you in this great quest."

"I am very pleased to hear this, Fi." the goddess smiled again. "And I assure you, when the time is right and you have fulfilled your duties….your memories and those things most cherished by you will be returned, this I promise you personally."

She then held out one hand, placing her long, delicate pointer finger in the center of Fi's forehead, right on top of the tiny diamond shape that curved outward. "I promise this will be completely painless, Fi." She said reassuringly before closing her eyes and slowly drawing her finger away. A thin line of soft blue fog followed her finger, coiling around it until it stopped leaking out of Fi's mind. She twirled her finger once; causing the fog to ball up, then she turned around and transferred it into a diamond-shaped crystal resting between the Master Sword's wings. She turned back to Fi, who blinked once mechanically, "Your Grace, please teach me all I must know." she said robotically.


	3. Ghirahim

**3.) Ghirahim**

Cold. It was bitter cold. Ghirahim's shoes had long been lost, his feet numb with a pinching frostbite. The harsh wind of a winter snowstorm reached its icy fingers through his threadbare shawl, raising goose bumps all over his arms and shoulders. Wolves howled around him eerily and the wind whistled past his bare ears. The trees shivered and shook, whispering their secrets to his deaf ears. The howls of the beasts morphed into the dying screams of his dead neighbors, and the trees' seductive whispers became Fi's voice in the dark of night telling him she loved him with her entire heart. They taunted him, driving him to insanity as he walked aimlessly through the blinding white Faron Woods. The nights he slept were completely restless. He spent them tossing and turning inside the makeshift snow bank beds he dug, haunted by voices and images. Purple-black bruises blossomed under his dead eyes, and his skin grew pale and tight, stretching over his skeleton, giving him the appearance of the very monsters that invaded the land a few nights before. Though the days that passed had been few, he found himself already losing both his will to live and his sanity. He would see his mother step out from behind a tree to ask what he wanted for supper…the cawing ravens would swoop down from their perch in the bare trees and peck at his flesh, causing him to thrash and scream, wildly throwing his arms around until they disappeared into the swirls of snow billowing about. More often though, he would see his darling Fi dancing in front of him, giggling and twirling as he'd try to catch her. She'd skip ahead of him, laughing in spite of his desperate pleas and she would twirl like the most graceful ballerina, taunting him, and then spin so fast she'd disappear into thin air, leaving him in worse condition than before. Other times she would wake him up in the middle of another cold night, tugging on him, begging him to help her, to save her. Before he could figure out what to do, she would be yanked off of him by some nameless creature then slaughtered again before his very eyes, her agonized screams mixing with his own until it was just his voice echoing off the trees, his tears freezing on his face. He had dreams, memories of past days in the summer, and the day he and Fi were married played over and over again; They were alone in the woods on a warm day in June, secretly promising their vows and slipping rings over each other's fingers as Fi giggled uncontrollably. Ghirahim brushed her warm hair out of her face softly as she leaned forward, whispering teasingly, _You may now kiss the bride…_ he would close his eyes and lean into her kiss, then open them and the woods would be dark and it would be winter. In front of him, Fi's skin turned blue in the bitter cold, her lips purple and frozen, although they were just warm, full and pink a moment ago. She would be crying, sobbing even, and he would try to comfort her, though he knew not why she cried so hard. Then, she would stop suddenly and fall dead onto his lap, blood flowing from an unexplained wound in her back until she was pale as the snow around them. It was the same nightmare over and over. The days seemed to grow longer and longer, more lonely and bitter by the minute. He got lost both physically and mentally, and at last after what seemed like forever in those woods, he broke. He had stopped walking abruptly, the voices of his friends and his lover morphing together and growing louder in his ears. They spoke in loud, frantic voices, calling his name in fear, all coming together in s blend of chaos. He threw his head back and screamed. The lonely sound echoed off the bare trees, vibrating through the air. It faded to nothing as he lost all the breath he had in his lungs to the world outside, and then his eyes fluttered closed as he slumped to the ground, unconscious in the snow.

Two fat, ugly red beasts sauntered through the snowy woods in search of firewood, followed by their master. They chatted in their odd dialect, their clubs hanging from belts at their waists, swinging as they walked. A pile of something in the distance caught their attention and one of the bloodthirsty bokoblins rushed ahead. It was a body…a pale, sick looking man lying in the snow. His chest slowly rose and fell as he unconsciously took in shaky breaths. "One survived, Master." He grunted in a disdainful tone. The other bokoblin rushed to his side and examined the man in the snow, then smiled, bloodlust glittering in his eyes. "I'll take care of him" he said, then raised his club into the air. He was about to bring it down when a loud, booming voice yelled out from behind, "STOP". Shocked, the beasts turned around to face their master. He towered over them, at least twelve feet tall, with scaly black skin, blazing hair of fire, and menacing red eyes that stared at the man lying in the snow. He looked down at the man sensing a great power somewhere inside him, and he knew there was something about him that he needed….he just couldn't figure it out….

"Take him back to the camp." He barked, turning on his heel and walking away. Then predicting the intentions of his minions, he turned around and growled, "Alive.", then swished away deep in thought. The bokoblins grumbled, then belted their weapons, grabbed onto the man's wrists and ankles, then dragged him to their camp.

Demise sat on a log inside his tent, staring at the sword across from him. It rested against its stand on the other side of the tent, its rusty spikes glowing faintly red. It had never done anything like this. He didn't think it had any power at all, and had been long past trying to find its Sword Spirit…if it even had one. So why was it acting so strange now? Could it perhaps have something to do with the human stranger from the woods? Demise had sensed something inside him; a power that had not yet been unlocked. Could he be the one? Could he be the spirit destined to bring this weapon to full power? There was only one way to find out. "YOU." He barked at the monster stationed at the front of the tent, waking him from a quiet nap. "Bring to me the prisoner from the woods. I want him here for execution"

The monster nodded, excited for more bloodshed, then sauntered off. _And if he turns out not to be the one, _Demise thought to himself, picking his sword out of its stand and twirling it in the air, _then it's just another one of Hylia's pathetic, mewling humans dead. No real loss there. _He smiled, wiping the tip of the rusty weapon between his thick black fingers, sprinkling rust onto the dirt floor. Moments later, two bokoblins entered with the man, who was now wide awake. Once he got a good look at him, Demise almost felt sorry for this pathetic creature. He was as skinny as the Stalfos around him, his eyes were shadowy and dark, like he hadn't slept in days, and he seemed to have no will to live; he didn't make a single move to fight the monsters dragging him to their master. _Well then this should be a blessing for the kid, _Demise thought to himself, smirking. "What are you called, human?" he commanded.

The man looked scornfully up into his hateful eyes and turned his head to the side defiantly. Filled with anger at this daring man, Demise reached his hand back and cracked it across his face with such force that the man doubled over on himself, clutching a broken nose. By now a small crowed of monsters had gathered, their need for bloodshed drawing them in for the show. "I asked you a question," Demise growled, sitting back down on the log. "Now answer me, what are you called?"

The man stayed on the ground and was silent for a moment before mumbling " My name, is Ghirahim."

"Ghirahim…" Demise mused, "Boy, you have a lot of nerve trying to stand up to the Demon King. Now tell me how you ended up in the woods in your…condition."

Ghirahim trembled with a painful memory, and then sat up, straightening his back to the best of his ability. "My….my wife. She was murdered when…when…" a silent tear slid down his face and he stopped, looking down at the ground.

"When my demons raided your village, I am guessing. Well that really is too bad now, isn't it?"

Ghirahim jerked his head up to look at the Demon King, hatred boiling through his veins. "You…..it was all you." He trembled as he spoke. "You killed her…"

Demise let out a booming laugh, the dry cackles and screeches of the monsters joining in. He silenced them with a wave of his hand and replied to Ghirahim's comment. "Boy, you are clearly mistaken. Think about it for a moment; who is the most powerful being in your petty little human world? Tell me, who?"

"Our all powerful creator, Hylia…."

"And, who has all the power to stop us if she truly wishes? Could she have stopped your precious wife from being brutally murdered? Of course! _She _let her die. **She** let this all happen. That goddess cares nothing for you wretched, mewling little worms! We," he gestured to the demons around him, "We are going to take her down!"

A loud, hideous chorus of screams and cheers from the monsters filled the little tent at his words. "We will rule the world in an everlasting age of darkness! DOWN WITH THE GODDESS, DOWN WITH HYLIA!" The screams grew louder, then faded when Demise held up his hand. He stretched out his hand invitingly with an evil smile on his dark, menacing face. "Join us, Ghirahim. Become an all-powerful demon, a _weapon_ for this cause. You will be a demon lord with a reigning power over the rest, and you will be my servant for eternity."

The idea sank into Ghirahim's insane, shattered mind and grew more and more appealing by the second. Hylia would fall…would pay for Fi's death…power…riches…he would live forever…an eternity of darkness….

He frantically snapped his head up to look at Demise, a hungry, vengeful look in his tired eyes. " I'll do it, I want this so badly now that I understand." he slowly stood up on his shaky, bloody legs and faced the Demon King, bowing, " I'll do it, Master.I want to do this." He mumbled. Demise's evil smile grew more malicious as he nodded. "Good" he growled, "Now hold still so we don't make a mess." He stood up, towering over the sick man, and grabbed his face, lowering him to his knees before him. He grabbed his sword firmly in his hand and plunged it deep into Ghirahim's chest. Screams of agony erupted from his mouth, which soon turned to hysterical laughs as both he and the sword morphed into their true forms. His skin bubbled and stretched over a whole new skeleton of iron as he grew larger in size, his pale hair was bleached white ,and his skin turned black with white lines on his arms and legs in the shape of diamonds. Demise then pulled the new sword out of his chest, leaving a hard, grey diamond in the middle where it had been forced in. Ghirahim stumbled backwards and collapsed to the ground with a loud metallic clank, lying cold and motionless on his back. Demise, paying no attention to his newest servant, excitedly looked over his sword; it had grown much longer, he could feel the power coursing through it, making it softly hum in his hands. He raised it to the sky in a triumphant pose, and out of nowhere came a lightning strike. It blasted through the flimsy roof of the tent, making contact with the sword in a burst of blinding red light that reflected off Demise's greedy eyes. It left a burning hole in the roof and the Anti-Master Sword buzzed with feverish electricity in the hand of its fully recognized master.


	4. A Weapon

**4. A New Weapon**

The shock at having a spiked sword thrust into his chest could not be measured with the pain that followed. His heart was ablaze with a consuming fire that pulsed through his veins as the sword infected his blood. He felt as if his skin was being torn apart by red-hot rakes and his bones coated in liquid sulphur as they too were stretched. His eyes were clouded with a veil of white that blinded him, making him even more aware of the pain that consumed him. But wait, behind the unbearable fire was something else; power. It throbbed through his being, consuming his mind and soul. It was power greater than any he had ever known and pushed through his mind, blocking out the memories, along with any emotion he had ever felt. There was only room for an extreme sense of superiority, for who else in the world has ever had so much power and knowing in their possession? His screams turned to hysterical laughs as he transformed, and he felt himself lose consciousness after feeling something slide out of his chest. He was now one with the Anti-Master Sword; a terrifying lord of demons.


	5. Lord Ghirahim

** Ghirahim**

He opened his eyes. He lied still for a moment, not sure exactly where he was, and somehow he could not remember anything. Who was he? Where was he?

_How_ did he _get_ here? He started when the face of a fat red beast peered at him inches away from his own black, metal face. He swiftly reached up, knocking the

ghastly thing away with a blow from his arm and stood up, taking in his surroundings; He was in a large tent, surrounded by the oddest creatures imaginable,

and everything he saw was with a great clarity. He could even sense many auras emanating from the life forms around him. There was a man sitting on a log,

studying him carefully with a satisfied expression across his scaly black face, excitement in his cruel red eyes. Suddenly he remembered. In front of him was his

creator, the reason he was like this. Lord Ghirahim staggered forward and fell to his knees before Demise, his knees clanking on the ground. He bowed his head,

"Master." His voice was robotic and vibrated deeply in his throat. The loyalty in his now shriveled heart had overtaken him completely. "I live to serve you

alone." he said to the king of all evil. Demise nodded and smiled. "Perfect."


End file.
